


the only thing lonelier than a loveless marriage

by scampstamp



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Infidelity, M/M, Mutual Pining, Trans Male Character, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:27:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27461938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scampstamp/pseuds/scampstamp
Summary: This wasn’t the first time Tim had taken a shine to him. The man, all grins and charisma, was often the only person who even spoke to him outside of a professional manner. Elias went unnoticed for the most part. That’s what made Tim… intriguing, but irritating. He was nevergoodat picking out his own emotions, or why he experienced them. And that too extended to why he felt annoyed at Tim’s persistence. He just couldn’t say.The Eye demands him to know, and his own personal anguish glowers at the idea of entertaining this sudden interpersonal relationship. Who needs outside relationships? Because that’s clearly gone well with Peter.Plus,it adds.He’s your employee. He likes you, but he wants something from you. They always do.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Elias Bouchard/Tim Stoker
Comments: 14
Kudos: 22





	1. what have we done to each other?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: alcoholism, dubcon (spoken as a joke by one of the characters), unhealthy coping mechanisms
> 
> Beta-read by aethereality & bluebismuth

The clock was usually unnoticeable, but all Elias can do is listen to the gentle tick of it in his office. It’s a metronome, keeping careful time of the musical triumphs and crashes of his lifetime over decades. 

Usually, the clock soothes him with its patient ticking and tocking. It reminds him of himself, patiently tapping his fingers on his desk as he waits for the next moment to toll, to take action. But right then, it was just a cruel reminder. Redundant, almost. He had a clock on his phone, new, and fancy, never off by even a second. It definitely wasn’t as loud as his old grandfather clock, and thus, wasn’t as offensive. 

Elias glares at his text messages, the green bubbles written modestly. Where an ‘I love you’ should be, there’s a ‘get home safely’. Where there should have been a response, there was only a date indicating that the messages were delivered three days ago.

Three days ago, and still no response. 

The thought had crossed his mind - just for a second - that he was the grandfather clock and his husband had a slimmer, sleeker, younger clock elsewhere. His powers bless him with a lot, but worst of all was the truth. And the truth was, Peter was just ignoring him, like he always did. If he had a man tucked underneath his arm on the Tundra, it certainly would have been easier to swallow than this.

Absolute silence. No acknowledgement, no love, no care. Elias knows Peter read them, even if he turned the read notification off. 

The phone screen dims, and then shuts off, leaving Elias bathed in darkness. He discards the phone onto his desk with a clatter, and leans back against his chair. 

He wasn’t ready to go back home, not to his mansion. Rooms upon rooms, hallways that stretched indefinitely filled to the brim with this ice cold sense of loneliness. 

He just didn’t have anywhere else to go, anything else to do, so he leans forward and leaves his chair. He doesn’t bother clearing off his desk, no one goes inside the locked office and he would only resume right where he left off the next day. He finds his overcoat, and exits the dark office into the madness of off-white walls and yellow lamp lights.

Some of the overlights have already been shut off by closing employees, leaving the institute bathed in that liminal space feeling, like you don’t belong here anymore. He shuts his door behind him, gently, not wanting to disturb anyone else who might still be behind, caught up in their work (Jon).

Elias drapes his coat over his shoulder, and walks through the corridors. His heels are muffled by the faded burgundy carpet, but they fill the air with a reverb as he enters the main lobby. Rosie looks just about wrapped up with everything, and offers Elias a smile.

Elias doesn’t return it, and he realizes that a second too late. He politely offers her a ‘good evening’ instead as he exits the institute. He’d spent decades admiring this building, crafted delicately for his patron. It was  _ his, _ founded and built from a man borne from nothing. In this year, in this era, Elias feels it’s a burden. Another saddle, another  _ bit  _ in his mouth, another master to serve.

He stops walking, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He won’t remember that. He will never remember that. Everything has been his own choice, he is his own master, he is in control. He looks down at silky black gloves, pale eyes sliding over a silver wedding band. He made his choice, he is in control.

He opens his car’s door, and sits in the driver’s seat, shutting the door and placing his hands on the steering wheel with a deep sigh, before a knock on his window startles him and he jumps. He stares at Tim with shock, and then his expression curls into annoyance, and then washes back into a patient smile.

After he’d taken the time to roll down his window (yes, that’s his choice too—he might have an iPhone, but nothing will win his heart over like the 1961 Ferrari Spider) Tim leaned his arm on the door. “Hello, Tim—are you trying to put me in the hospital?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, boss, I didn’t know you were… jumpy, usually you’re—”

“Aware of these things, yes.” Elias chews on the inside of his cheek. “I’m fine.”

“Now, you know what they say about—”

“Quite, but you should take my word for it,” Elias goes through a great deal of effort to mask his expression further. “Long day, lots of work, I’m a bit in a rush to get home.”

“ _ Alright _ , just make sure you get some sleep. Don’t want you to be grumpy all day tomorrow.” 

Elias is already rolling up his window, unable to meet Tim’s eyes anymore. He waits for Tim to step back, before he closes the window completely, and starts his car’s engine.

* * *

Tim is barely able to step back in time when he hears the engine turnover, before Elias is pulling out of the parking lot. There goes his chance to hitch a ride. At least, that’s what he selfishly tells himself. When he stopped Elias, decided to ask what his problem was, he should’ve  _ expected _ to be brushed off coldly.  _ Stupid! _

He takes a few steps leaning backwards, hands in his hoodie’s pockets and staring at the sky, before he curses and finds a chunk of concrete to kick. Okay, maybe that was a mistake. Chunks of concrete weren’t meant to be kicked with flimsy sneakers. He exhales deeply, and backs out of the lot.

Sasha’s warnings should be heeded, he supposes. Elias is his boss, and married at that. She wasn’t going to stop him, assuming that he was an adult and he would make the right decision.  _ Well, jokes on you, Sash, _ he steps onto pavement split with moss.  _ I’m an adult and I made the worst decision accepting a job from this damn institute _ .

It’s a trek from the entrance of the institution to the bus stop just outside of it. On the way there, he plays over the interaction in his head, over and over, toying with it. Poking at what he could have done differently.

Elias has always intrigued him. The minute he hosted Tim’s interview, he knew that there was something different about Elias. There was something washed out about him. There was a man underneath the skin he wore, worn away by years worth of pain. He was calm and quiet, patient, had a lovely smile but it wasn’t  _ real.  _ He folded his hands on the table and slouched-just slightly. If he hadn’t been interviewing Tim, if Tim hadn’t known that Elias was going to be his boss, the blonde in all his 6’4 glory would have managed to fade into the background, like a century old painting.

And what a damn shame that would have been, because he was showstopping. Jaw dropping. He had perfect pale blonde curls, fluttery lashes teased with mascara, eyeliner that could cut a man’s throat, a soft, sloping jaw that held firm and professional, and don’t get Tim started on that suit.

He could just barely contain a flurry of panicked thoughts, how he wanted to kiss those lips pink, bite color into his skin, cause his makeup to run in big black streaks all over his cheeks. All halted when he saw Elias duck down behind a clipping of paperwork, and there was this lurch of smugness mixed with embarrassment that played in his chest. He hadn't meant to make his staring obvious.

If he didn’t have a reason for being there, he would have just walked out on the interview and got Elias' number for a later date. Alas, there were other, more important things in life. Like figuring out what the Hell—

Tim sighs, leaning up against the bus stop sign. 

Perhaps those thoughts would have ended in that room, simply because the work ethic in the archives was nothing short of dried up. Dusty, monotonous, and too much reading. It ended up being quite the opposite. Elias was able to slip past everyone’s awareness, but not Tim’s.

He went about his day flipping through papers, and checking on his employees to make sure they were on task (what was this, primary school?) and, on a particularly indulgent day, reading a novel. 

Elias drank his coffee black, and tended to wear dark greys that really did scream ‘protagonist of a F. Scott Fitgerald book’. For someone who went so unnoticed by everyone else, he really did have a presence, and it was being subdued by… something.

And just like that, Tim had another drive. Revenge and… simple curiosity. Governed next to shameless lust. If he figured out how his boss ticked, what was obscuring his clearly larger-than-life personality, he might be able to focus on what he came here for.

And for some reason, he felt like they could be connected. It was a silly premise to think that Elias could have some sort of connection to his brother, but deep down he thought that solving one would solve the other. 

The bus lights up the street slightly as it slides to a stop in front of Tim, and the doors tumble open. 

There was no harm in trying.

* * *

Peter unlocks the front door, and pushes it open. He sees what Elias doesn’t, which is somewhat of an ironic twist of fate. The flooding of fog that follows him inside, wrapping around the man laying on the couch. Elias looks up from his book, his lips barely touching the rim of a wine glass as he swallows the last of it and then sets it down on the coffee table. “You’re home!”

“And you’re drunk,” Peter murmurs, icy eyes taking in the two wine bottles left precariously on their sides, the final one standing tall but it’s a toss up for how long. He shuts the door behind him, strolling over to the TV mounted above the fireplace, and he shuts it off. 

“I’m not, not really.”

“When we got married you could hardly hold yourself up if you so much as had a drop of whiskey…” Peter says, his amusement somewhat thinly veiled in his voice. “Do you expect me to believe you’re going to remember anything in the morning?”

“Ohh,” Elias snarks back. “Why does this sound like a skit for a ‘consent awareness’ video?” He leans back on the couch, holding his book back up to his face to try and pick up where he left off. “Considering how often you’re  _ away _ , I don’t expect you to have an accurate gauge of your  _ husband’s  _ alcohol tolerance.”

“Yes, because you’ve been waiting all this time to antagonize me.”

That definitely catches Elias' attention, and he drops his book somewhat. “I’m sorry, I really did miss you.”

“Don’t stay up too late, I’ll be in my room if you need me,” Peter walks over calmly, tracing his hand through Elias’ pine colored locks. He feels something like detached arrogance when he feels Elias tuck his head into his palm, closing his eyes, smiling. He’d do anything for contact, for an ounce of affection. 

Peter would normally be repulsed by the idea of touching another person, if - he withdraws his hand, and steps away - when he did that, Elias’ expression didn’t immediately drop; his want didn’t immediately spike, and his hand didn’t immediately dart out for the neck of a wine bottle. In his lack of oversight, he mistakes the loneliness for a regular chill, and he drowns it in the warmth alcohol provides.

Many of the Lukas’s are married in, never out of love. Not really out of a choice. He found it interesting that, despite knowing Peter’s nature, his patron, Elias still took a shine to him. On the same coin, though, Elias was either blissfully unaware of the hand The Lonely played in his life, or he chose to ignore it. Peter didn’t read people, he didn’t care to, he found that people were messy and unreliable; but something about Elias made him want to take guesses. He either truly did love Peter, or this was some masochistic, self-destructive act by his own hand. 

Peter wouldn’t let an opportunity like this slip through his fingers, though. Elias lived for the moments he got to spend with Peter, and feared the weeks spent alone in his mansion with a long history of death and murder. That was good enough for him.

He locked his bedroom door behind him in case Elias followed. He had the skeleton key to the mansion, but the lock said more than words could. And the lock would hurt more than words would.

* * *

Elias slumps against the armrest of the couch. He’d already fought to get his binder off, so now he lies relaxed and with his novel precariously against his thigh. All there was to do now was to watch the TV screen and sulk. “You did it, Magnus.” He sighed, voice rough with sleep. He lets the hand gripping the empty wine bottle lie limp at his side as he stares at the ceiling. 

What he did, he wasn’t sure. Put himself within arms reach of immortality? Manage to continue his laundry list of taboo lovers? Broke his own, personal record for most amount of alcohol tolerated?

He drops the bottle on the floor, knowing that the mansion was too big for the sound to disturb Peter in his rest, and he reaches a hand out towards his coffee table. He brushes his fingertips along the smooth wood and glass, searching for a lighter, and then curling his hand around it. His other hand propped a cigarette between his teeth, and he ran his thumb over the steel three or four times before the lighter flicked on. 

He burns the end of his cigarette, and sinks into the couch more. “You’ve managed to make a choice that resulted in your own torment. Again.”

For someone with, quite literally, his whole life ahead of him… Elias feels bleak. He takes a drag of his cigarette, and exhales deeply. Master of his life, all in his control, so why is it that he actively seeks the things that make him feel horrible?

His phone buzzes on the coffee table, and he exhales smoke as he sits up, leaving his cigarette dangling slightly. He picks up the device, expecting to see that someone’s called out of work because they stayed up too late drinking—was it really 1:24 in the morning? He leans back on the couch, unlocking his phone to check his messages, and his heart lurches.

From Stoker, a brief message: “I know it’s unprofessional, but if you need someone to talk to, I’m all ears”.

He turns off his phone, and holds it to his chest. He waits, one, two, and then turns on his phone again to check. This wasn’t the first time Tim had taken a shine to him. The man, all grins and charisma, was often the only person who even spoke to him outside of a professional manner. Elias went unnoticed for the most part. That’s what made Tim… intriguing, but irritating. He was never  _ good _ at picking out his own emotions, or why he experienced them. And that too extended to why he felt annoyed at Tim’s persistence. He just couldn’t say.

The Eye demands him to know, and his own personal anguish glowers at the idea of entertaining this sudden interpersonal relationship. Who needs outside relationships? Because that’s clearly gone well with Peter.  _ Plus _ , it adds.  _ He’s your employee. He likes you, but he wants something from you. They always do. _

Hesitation. More smoke. Thumbs tapping carefully along a white and grey keyboard, and then touching the send button.

“Thank you, Stoker. Not tonight.”

The anguish begrudgingly lies its head down, and Elias shuts off his phone again. His heart is thudding against his chest, and he fumbles with the sudden rush of adrenaline and anxiety for a moment. He grabs his cigarette out of his mouth and puts it out in an ashtray, and practically jumps for his phone when it buzzes against the table.

“Then I’ll wait.”


	2. sugar storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s no content warnings for this chapter as far as I can tell, but if you do find one please shoot me a private message.
> 
> This chapter would be _nothing_ without the support of my boyfriend the entire time I was writing it. I love you!
> 
> And I have to give special thanks to my BFFs for combing through this nonsense and helping me make it as good as it can be.
> 
> Beta-read by aethereality, bluebismuth & an IRL friend

The frying pan sizzles as Elias drops three extra strips of bacon onto it. He nudges them around with a fork to get them adequately coated with the grease from the last batch and then discards the fork into the spoon rest next to the stove top. He reaches for a bowl of pancake batter and grips it tightly while he spoons the batter into another lightly oiled frying pan. Elias hears movement behind him, pauses, and then resumes his task.

“Peter?” He mutters, not looking backwards. A soft, sleepy hum greets him, and he taps the spoon against the frying pan to get excess batter to fall inside of it. He sets the bowl aside and finds the fork from before, teasing the bacon slices again. “I put the coffee on already, it should be done soon,” he looks over his shoulder. “Would you lend a hand? Just watch the bacon, I have a couple of other things I need to focus on.”

Case and point, as soon as Peter walks over and leans against the counter to keep an eye on the bacon, Elias kneels down to peer into the oven through the small window in the door. “Few more minutes for that too.”

“Do you only do this when I’m here?” Peter asks brusquely.

Elias looks startled. He stands again, glancing over the pancake batter for bubbles. Upon finding them, he grabs the pan’s handle with a cloth and jerks it to flip the pancake over. “Just, use that fork—no, the other one. There you go, just push the slices around, they’re almost done. Um, sorry, Peter. I wish I could say it was, but the truth is I just enjoy cooking. I would have left it at just coffee and bread but I have to leave for work and sometimes a full stomach makes up for the loneliness.”

Peter didn’t like that one bit, and that makes Elias feel a bit giddy. Annoying the man was a bit of a pass time, since nothing _else_ got through to him. “You’ve been up early, then.”

“I didn’t sleep very well, no,” Elias walks over to the refrigerator, grasping the handle and pulling it open so he could retrieve whipped cream and a small bowl of strawberries he’d prepared earlier. He shuts the door with his foot and peels the clear wrap off the mouth of the bowl, then sets them on the counter. 

Elias takes up the frying pan once again, and slides the last pancake onto a stack. He turns off the heat on both burners, and scoops the bacon out of the other pan and drops it onto a plate covered with a napkin. The coffee machine gurgles, alerting the couple that the coffee was done, and Peter shuts it off. Then the oven beeps, so Elias finds some oven mitts to pull the bread out. “Serve yourself, I’m running late.”

“You’re not going to eat?” Peter asks slowly as Elias walks towards the kitchen doorway. 

He pauses, looking over his shoulder, and then he shrugs. “It wasn’t for me.” He leaves the kitchen and travels up the large staircase.

Decades spent in this cursed mansion made navigating it easy. A breeze. He’d learned the layout somewhat when he was fourteen, but he never needed to memorize it because his tasks were relatively simple. Finding himself haggling with a promotion, his late teens were spent memorizing _everything_ at once. The layout, the schedule, the staff, and when he needed to shut up and bow his head with a servile smile. 

Now look at him. He showers in the master bathroom. He brushes his teeth in the sink, and gags at the taste of toothpaste. When he opens the closet, he finds his own suits, not anyone else’s. He dresses himself, slathers on his own cologne, and applies his eyeliner with hands that have stopped trembling when he turned twenty-five. Elias can only hope that the previous owner of this mansion is turning over in his grave, knowing that after all these years, it’s still Elias’.

He caps off his eyeliner, and finds a pair of black gloves to match his grey suit. He gently pulls the silver engagement ring off his ring finger, and slips on his gloves, before putting it back on. He takes in his reflection, reaching up to run his fingers through damp curls, pushing them back and letting his hands linger on his neck.

Elias closes his eyes and exhales. He backs away from the mirror, and then opens his eyes again. He trails his hands over his waist coat to sooth it out. “Right,” he whispers and steps away from the mirror, beginning to leave his room. “Work.”

As he sets foot on the first floor, he freezes. He furrows his eyebrows together, but then he’s compelled towards the kitchen anyway. He returns to it for the second time this morning, and his heart lurches. The dishes had been mostly cleaned up, the stovetop wiped down, and left on the counter was his black and gold travel mug, and toast sliced up and coated in butter. For a moment, Elias wonders if Peter’s trying to poison him. Searching for a thought that would reveal that yields nothing though. The paranoia finally washes away into a warm glow in his chest, and he smiles as he picks up the mug and exits the kitchen.

* * *

“And you _what_?” Sasha says incredulously. 

Tim shrugs nonchalantly, staring off towards the side at nothing in particular. “I know, I know, I’m being careless and unprofessional and I’m going to lose my job.”

They stood outside the institute, neither of them eager to go inside and start the day. At least, not without Jon snapping at them first. The morning sky was thick with an overcast, and Tim had to huddle into his sweater to stay warm against the offending chill. He’d picked the wrong day to decide that fall still wasn’t here.

“No,” Tim looks up at Sasha with his eyebrows raised. Sasha was wearing something much warmer, a wool sweater and a light coat over it, but she still hugs some paperwork to her chest and shivers. “I mean, yes, but, he _responded,_ right?”

“Sort of, he thanked me and said ‘not now’.” Tim pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens the messages to check them again. “Then I told him that I’d wait, and then he never replied.”

“Maybe he’s as bad at replying to texts as you are,” Sasha says with amusement edging her voice. Tim chuckles. “Well, I’m not… _encouraging_ this… but I’m not going to stop you, either.”

Tim fights a grin. Typical Sash. “So you think I’m good to move forward?”

“Mmmhmm.” Sasha shivers again, and takes a longing glance towards the front doors of the institute. “Yeah, uh, I’m going to go inside. It’s freezing. And it might buy you some time, too, if you’re planning on slacking off longer.”

“I’ll be inside soon, I think I’m gonna have a smoke first.” 

Sasha wrinkles her nose, but doesn’t say anything. Tim can tell she detests the habit (from anyone), but she respects his decision as long as he keeps it outside. “Alright, Tim.” She turns away, and shrinks in on herself as a breeze blows through her, making her long skirt billow around her ankles, and then she rushes inside. The door slams behind her, and Tim leans up against a wall, taking his pack of smokes out of his pocket and opening it up.

Tim slips a cigarette out, and then tucks the rest away. He fishes around for his lighter, and then ignites the end. Despite the chill, it’s a nice morning, but something tells him that it’s going to storm today. He wishes he’d brought an umbrella. He takes a drag and then exhales the smoke. Oh well, sometimes his intuition was off in the morning. It is what it is.

There were a million thoughts racing in his head aside from that. What was he even going to say to Elias? What was Elias going to say to _him_? Was he going to get in trouble today, now that his boss had gotten a good night’s rest? Or was something else going to happen? He licks his lips, trying to push the thought of kissing Elias nice and hard out of his mind. That would definitely not happen, no matter how much he wishes it would. 

For some reason, it had taken Tim months of pining to even notice the lone silver ring on his boss’s finger. He’d never experienced such a rush of disappointment when he saw it, but on that note, Elias never displayed it proudly. He never rebuffed Tim’s cautious advances with the fact that he was married. And somehow, to Tim, Elias seemed even lonelier with that wedding band on than before. 

He pulls the last drag from his cigarette, before putting it out on the brick wall of the institute and flicking it over his shoulder. He approached the door, and reached out for the handle, only for his hand to touch upon a black glove.

Instantly, he looks up to meet Elias’ surprised gaze. Apparently, they were both in a thoughtful stupor. Every smooth sentence and casual smile evaporates from Tim's mind, and he awkwardly yanks the door open for Elias.

The blonde opens his mouth, and then closes it. He raises his hand, gestures aimlessly, and then drops it all and murmurs a polite thank you, before stepping inside the institute. Tim watches him walk inside with wide eyes, before letting go of the door and smacking his forehead. _Augh! Stupid!_

Tim didn’t miss how pleasantly surprised Elias looked at his chivalry, but he _knew_ he could do better than that. He taps the heel of his palm against his forehead again, before he covers his mouth. No, it’s way too early in the morning to start thinking like this. Today was going to be a productive day. 

He slaps his cheeks lightly twice before he opens the institute door and steps inside, ignoring the weird look Rosie shot him.

* * *

Elias leans against the archive’s entrance, peering into the room with his arms folded across his chest. 

“Do you think I’ll get away with putting another basketball hoop on Jon’s door?” Tim says boredly. There’s a snap of a stapler, and he sets aside a packet of paper into a temporary ‘finished’ pile. His back is towards Elias, and his feet are lazily propped up on the first thing they found.

Sasha is facing the doorway, but she hasn’t seen Elias yet. “I’d say go for it. What’s the worst Jon can do? Fire you?”

“He’s not going to _fire_ me.” Tim says, shuffling through another stack of papers and reorganizing them.

“I can hear you two,” Jon’s voice is muffled through his closed office door, but if Tim and Sasha heard (they did), they made no indication of caring.

“Uh- guys,” Martin’s fragile voice floats through the air. “I-I don’t know if it matters… probably not, but, um.”

He looks at Elias, and just like that Sasha’s eyes trail over to where Elias was standing, and Tim tumbles around to look behind himself. “Boss!”

Elias takes a minute to rub his temple with his finger, giving them the impression that he was annoyed at their casual demeanors in a professional setting. They all remain still, with bated breath, as he finally recollects himself and sighs. “Stoker, do you mind…?”

“Oh, uh, not at all,” he looks at Sasha, and then back at Elias as he stands up. The blonde rights himself and after making sure Tim is following, begins to walk down the corridor to his office.

After making sure there’s no one around, Elias speaks up. “Er, Stoker, we need to talk.” He pushes the office door open, granting Tim entry to the dark room.

Tim doesn’t immediately walk inside. “Yes, we do.”

That makes Elias’ heart skip, and he stares in disbelief at Tim. He searches Tim’s mind for what he could have possibly wanted to talk about, as the man steps inside. Elias follows and shuts the door behind them, then leans against it. “Then why don’t you go first, tell me what’s on your mind?”

“Uh- well, I told you if you needed someone to talk to, I was here.”

“Right…”

“And when you responded, you said thank you, but not tonight.”

“Mhm.”

“Well, it’s not last night anymore, it’s today,” Tim takes in a deep breath, apparently collecting himself. “So I was wondering if you wanted to go somewhere after work, you know, to talk.”

Elias’s eyes immediately flash to his hand, staring at the silver ring. He inhales deeply, closing his eyes, turning the information over and over in his mind. He should have seen this coming. That’s something he seems to tell himself quite often nowadays. _You should have seen this coming_ . He can’t be delicate with himself. _Seeing_ is the only real reason he’s not in his own body. 

“Stoker…” 

“Tim,” he corrects, his eyes ablaze with worry. 

Elias takes in this expression, running his thumb over his silver ring and thinking. He wasn’t _seriously_ considering this, was he? “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were asking me out on a date.”

“N-no, if I were asking you on a date, I would have asked you on one.” 

_But I do know better, and you_ are _asking me on one._ Normally, the lie would have annoyed Elias, but he found some part of himself amused.

It fades, though, when his eyes catch his travel mug on his desk. His thoughts whirl to the morning, empty and cold save for the gesture. Clean dishes, carefully sliced and buttered bread, and warm coffee with just the right amount of sugar. Exactly how Elias liked it. “I… I can’t accept. Last night I had a lot of alcohol. I guess what I’m trying to say is—”

“You led me on?”

“I… yes.” This was the first time Elias had been able to express his thoughts clearly in years. Talking to people had always been a breeze for him before. His omnipotence granted him a confidence and charisma he’d never had before. Though, he hasn’t spoken to many people since getting married to Peter, not like this. He focuses his gaze back onto Tim. “Why me?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Why do you persist in—” he searches for the right word. “Trying to befriend me?”

Tim doesn’t miss a beat. “I don’t think anyone’s tried to before.” It’s complete honesty. It’s _too_ honest. The honesty eats away at Elias, and he steps aside to grant Tim exit and points the doorway. 

“Get out.”

* * *

When Elias had led Tim into the dim office lit only by a myriad of colors from the large stained glass window, he couldn’t have been sure what he was expecting. It was fun catching Elias off guard for once, but beyond that it was a painful experience to sit through. The rejection rang like a bell being hit so hard it broke, if Elias’ words were the hammer.

He might’ve lived with it, too, had Elias not growled his demand while pointing at his door. The last thing Tim saw before backing out of the room were his vibrant, gold eyes, _glowing_ in the darkness. 

Sasha was no help, either. They ended up talking quieter than before, not really caring to hear what Jon thought if he found out Tim was trying to date _his_ boss. The conversation didn’t last long, Tim relayed what happened (sans glowing eyes) and she shook her head with a sigh. “I told you so, Tim.”

It was hard to focus on getting anything done while obsessing over the possibility of seeing Elias again, having to face him after that talk in his office… but the rest of the day was quiet. Nothing happened, for better or for worse. 

Tim clears out his work space, tucking files away haphazardly and shutting the institute computer down. He leans back in his chair and rakes his hands through his hair. What a day. Sasha had already left, so he wasn’t sure what he was sticking around for anymore. He slaps his hand on his desk lightly, before he stands up and grabs his hoodie. He pulls it over his hawaiian shirt, and then makes his way out of the institute.

When he reaches the front doors, he swears under his breath when he sees that it’s raining outside. Yup, he should have brought an umbrella. Or at least a thicker jacket. Tim stares through the glass doors unwillingly for a few more moments, before he hears movement behind him.

He looks over his shoulder, and his heart stops for a moment. Elias’ expression is somewhat vacant despite how focused his eyes seem. His thumb strokes the handle of his black umbrella, which he’s leaning on more like a cane than an umbrella. “Do you need a ride?”

Tim looks back outside, at the downpour, and then back at Elias. “I’m _not_ turning that down, if this is a test.”

Elias looks away for a moment, a smile flashing over his lips. Tim feels a smile play over his own mouth, too. “It’s not a test, no. Come on.” Elias approaches the door, using his back to push it open while he opens the umbrella, and then holds it up for Tim to stand underneath it. 

When they get to Elias’ car, he passes the umbrella to Tim so he can unlock the passenger door. He waits for him to get inside before he strolls around to the driver’s side and also climbs inside. He closes his umbrella before shutting the door and then leaning back against his seat.

“What happened?” Tim finally decides to ask. 

Elias looks over at him with something akin to fatigue. Despite the cold dismissal earlier, Tim notices pain in his eyes, and wishes he could soothe it. “I…” Tim sits more attentively. “I just don’t want to be alone, I suppose, and my husband’s not going to be home tonight.”

“It’s not like you have to go home! Why don’t you see if a friend…” Elias stares at Tim, and the look says it all. “... Oh.” He sits back and stares at the dashboard. 

There’s a long silence as Elias starts his car and the only thing that pads it out is the engine rumbling, the rain hitting the roof, and the windshield wipers swiping back and forth. “You want to ask me again,” Elias says. Tim jumps and looks at him, who’s now leaning forward with his head pressed against the steering wheel.

“Of course I do. What’s your answer this time?” 

The blonde sits up and looks at Tim with a mixture of surprise and confusion, like Tim’s some exciting puzzle to figure out. It stirs a thrill in his stomach. Mutual interest. “My answer...” He sighs. “Sure. Why not?”

Tim smiles at Elias. “Where to, boss?”

He watches as the blonde twists slightly to grab his seat belt and buckle himself in. Tim immediately mimics him. Elias changes shifts, and carefully pulls out of the lot. “I have this bakery I like to go to,” Elias says in a soft voice. “I’m not a fan of sweets I don’t make myself, but…”

“It’s familiar?” 

“Something like that.” 

Tim watches Elias’ eyes flicker over the road, how he leans back and leaves one hand on the steering wheel. The silver ring glistens while they wait in front of a traffic light, and Tim turns to stare out of the passenger window instead. “I didn’t know you baked,” he said, being honest, but wanting to start conversation beyond what Elias had said before.

“I do more than bake. I’m actually fond of cooking altogether,” Tim looks back and sees Elias smile as the traffic light turns green, and he starts driving again. “If you blindfold me and had me taste spices, I could probably tell you which one is which.”

“I would’ve never guessed by looking at you. I always imagined you had a chef and a butler at your beck and call.” Tim sees Elias stiffen in his seat, and immediately knows he’d said something wrong. He doesn’t know what to say to make it better, because he doesn’t know why exactly he’s upset, so he just looks back out the window.

“That would be nice,” Elias finally says, an edge of coldness curled around his tone. “But I don’t have the funds for that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I also wouldn’t need one. It would be… irritating, to say the least.” When Tim doesn’t speak, he continues after carefully maneuvering his car down a bend. “Cleaning is soothing for me. If you wash a sink full of dishes, the reward is immediate: you now have a rack full of clean dishes and that’s something you’ve done. It’s… less messy than life, I suppose.”

Tim thinks about this for a moment. It’s certainly not a conclusion he would have come to on his own. It’s definitely something that provides him insight on this enigma next to him. “Yeah, I guess you can scrub a man all you want, but he won’t come out shiny enough to eat off of.”

A sudden ring of laughter cuts through the rain patter. It stuns Tim into a stupor, listening to the warm sound caress through the car, before it pitters out into a delighted sigh. For some reason, it reminds Tim of sunlight in the morning, or honey being stirred into tea. “Imagine that,” Elias says, grinning as he makes another turn. “All my problems would be solved.”

Tim can’t respond, still taken aback by the man’s laugh. He’d _never_ heard it before. He’d never seen him _smile_ like that before, unrestrained and full of mirth. Tim can’t help but wonder if he’s being dramatic, being so fixated on this. But one thing’s for sure:

He definitely wants to hear it again.

* * *

Elias didn’t bring his umbrella with him into the bakery. He holds the door open for Tim to rush inside, and then follows while tucking his hands into his overcoat’s pockets. He watches Tim close his eyes, tilt his chin up and inhale the scent of vanilla and cinnamon as deep as he could. “Good call, boss, this _is_ the kind of place I should head to after a long day of work.”

Elias smiles in reply, and approaches the counter. Tim follows after. “What are you going to get?”

“Ohh, tough choice. Those cupcakes look fan-tabulous though,” Tim rubs his hands together, before pointing at a cupcake stand with an assortment of decorated chocolate cupcakes. 

“That’s a good choice,” the woman behind the counter says, taking the time to get one out. “And, the same as usual for you, Elias?”

“Mhm. Oh, um, can you make it two cupcakes?” He looks back at Tim. “One for here and the other for later.” 

“I won’t argue that.” Tim replies.

They walked back to one of the small tables with their treats, Elias putting down his coffee first, and then his slice of pie. He slips off his overcoat, and then hangs it on the back of his seat, before sitting down.

He ignores the way their shoes touch at first, and then politely moves his feet back and folds his hands over the table. Tim is more calm, leaning back as he peels off the wrapper from his cupcake. “I know I said we could talk about what’s bothering you,” he says after taking a bite. “But I won’t make you. I can wait. Sometimes you just need company, right?”

Elias cuts into the tip of his apple pie, ignoring the way Tim’s words catch him off guard. “That’s kind of you.”

A long silence follows, where they both listen to the rain outside, and indulge in the sweet taste of sugar and spice. Elias picks up his coffee mug, and takes a long sip, watching Tim over the rim of his mug. The man hung his arm over the back of his chair, his legs stretched out, and staring out the window. His red dyed hair looked nice against his tanned skin, his piercings rounding off the look easily enough. Tim truly did dress how he liked. Elias cast his gaze down to his suit, bathed in greyscale. He wasn’t sure when he started disregarding color so much. He stopped caring about his appearance some years ago.

“Yesterday...” Elias watches Tim sit up, looking at him attentively now instead of out the window. “I was reading over my text messages with Peter, my husband… He goes on these trips, you see, he works on a ship. The Tundra. And… I had messaged him when he first left, I mentioned a few things, and then I told him to be safe and… he never messaged me back.” 

“Is he okay?” Concern flashes over Tim’s face.

“Oh, he’s… He’s fine, he came home yesterday night. I made him breakfast this morning. But now he’s gone again… I got the message after… we talked.” Tim flinches. “I just feel… foolish,” Elias turns his stare down into the coffee in his mug, staring at his reflection. “I really did think we would get to spend the weekend together, after what he did this morning.”

“What’d he do?” 

A smile plays at Elias’s mouth. “He washed the dishes and left out toast and coffee for me.”

“But you made him breakfast!” Elias looks up in shock at Tim’s exclamation. “That’s the least he could have done, I-I mean. He didn’t even kiss you goodbye?”

“I think he was in his room when I was leaving.”

“Oh, my God,” Tim leans back in his seat again. “No wonder you’re always crabby.” Elias arches an eyebrow, and Tim springs forward again. “Not-not anything against you, I don’t mean it in a bad way, I just… I would feel like crap if that was happening to me.”

“I think it’s ridiculous,” Elias sighs. “It’s been like this all our marriage. It bothers me, but… I’ve never felt so _awful_ about it. I just feel so alone.” 

There’s another long pause, and then Elias feels a hand brush up against his. He looks up at Tim, who looks sincere, and very, very sad. “I’m sorry. He’s taking you for granted.”

Elias places his other hand over Tim’s, and for the first time in a century, he feels like crying.

* * *

The rest of the date—it’s not actually a date, but Tim finds himself hard pressed to unearth another word for it—is spent in silence. He watches Elias take one final sip of his coffee, and then together they stack the dishes on top of one another, get a paper bag for Tim’s extra cupcake, and then they leave.

Elias drove to Tim’s flat, and he doesn’t question how he got his address. When they arrive, Elias puts the gearshift on park, and they both sit in silence for a moment. “Well, Elias,” Tim finally says. “I’ll be seeing you on Monday, then.”

“Quite.”

“Take it easy, and-and… text me if you need me, I guess?”

Elias chuckles. “If I need you.”

“Right! Well then, uh, bye.” Tim opens the door, and climbs out of the car. Immediately, the rain beats down on him, soaking through his sweater and stabbing him with cold. He’s about halfway to his door when the sound of a car horn makes him jump out of his skin. 

He looks behind him, watching as Elias opens his window, and leans out. “You forgot your cupcake!” He shouts over the rain.

“Oh, bollocks. How could I?! Those things were like nine pounds!” Tim says lightheartedly, jogging back up to Elias’s window. He sees that smile on his face again, as Elias turns and retrieves the bag and holds it out to Tim. 

Something comes over Tim, seeing his gentle, somewhat shy smile. Their hands brush as he shifts the bag over to Tim, and his heart throbs. “Elias…”

“Hmm?” Elias tilts his head, silvery eyes flickering over Tim’s expression, like he’s trying to understand what he’s thinking.

“You really, really deserve better. I-” _You’ve got this, Tim._ “You’re a real sweetheart when it comes down to it. Tonight, even if it was depressing and for your sake, I didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. And-and I know it’s weird, and… wrong. And really unprofessional, but I’d spend as much time with you as I could, if I were Peter.”

Elias doesn’t respond, but his eyes are wide. He opens his mouth, and closes it, and he fiddles with his shirt collar for a moment, his cheeks blooming with color. Tim’s eyes flicker over his features, for a second, and then leans in a bit. Testing the waters, wanting to see, wanting to know, and Elias bridges the gap and presses their lips together.

In the buzz of the moment, the chill of the rain, and the warmth of the kiss, Tim’s mind is flooded with the softness of Elias’s lips. He reaches up, and rakes his hand through blonde curls that are getting wet the longer they spend kissing, but neither of them care anymore.

Above the rain, Tim can hear the smack of their lips departing when Elias finally pulls back. They make eye contact, before Elias sits back. “See you Monday.”

Tim is too stunned to reply, as Elias rolls his window up and then drives off. He remains in the downpour, licking his kiss-stained lips until Elias’s black Ferrari disappears out of sight.


End file.
